All My Fault
by alexianFireflies
Summary: Post-CoLS. Alec is having difficulty dealing with the breakup, sees it as being all his fault, and has turned to self-harm to cope. Rated T for self-harm. There is some self-harm shown, so if you think it might trigger you, please don't read.
1. All My Fault

**Set post-CoLS. Alec is having difficulty getting over the breakup and has turned to self-harm as the solution, but refuses to admit to himself that he might be depressed over the breakup.**

**Warning: Contains some of the spoilers that have been shared from CoHF. I don't think it really matters if you've read them or not, but if you haven't, you really, really should.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, absolutely nothing, OR MALEC WOULD NOT HAVE BROKEN UP. **

Alec lifted the blade to his wrist for the fifth time. One for not trusting Magnus. One because it was his fault he was utterly alone now. One to express the crushing loneliness and sadness (not depression, he wouldn't apply that word to himself). One because he hated himself for having even thought about shortening Magnus's life, making that choice for him. And one for being an idiot in general.

There were more every time. It had started, a week after things had ended with Magnus, with simply one—one for not trusting Magnus, for not trusting the one person he loved more than anyone and consequently throwing away the thing that had made his life really worth it.

Alec hadn't thought it could possibly hurt this much—he hadn't even been with Magnus for that long. But it was true, what they said, that the bonds Nephilim formed were different from the bonds mundanes and Downworlders formed. The bonds a Nephilim forged when they felt love were infinitely stronger and more permanent than anything the humans or Downworlders seemed to form. Those bonds ran deeper, deeper than Alec had thought was possible, and dissolving them, he had quickly learned, _hurt_.

It was a curse, Alec decided bitterly, as rivulets of red made their way down his arm. Their curse. To automatically have emotional bonds running deeper than most Downworlders or humans would experience.

Alec said most because he wouldn't deny that some humans and Downworlders out there had formed, could form, bonds just as deep as those Nephilim had. But those were fewer and rarer, whereas for Nephilim, if they formed a bond of love, familial or otherwise, it ran that deep whether they wanted it to or not.

Granted, it worked well. It meant that Shadowhunters who truly fell in love, who really wanted to be together, would stay together until death parted them. But it also meant that if such a bond ended and one person felt a tie that strong sever, it would hurt as much as if part of his or her heart had literally been carved out.

Alec gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tightly, fighting tears as the memories of Magnus and moments with him threatened to overwhelm—in particular the kiss right before Magnus had told him to get his things and move out.

Maybe, Alec decided, maybe it hurt all the more for him because he knew it was his fault. Because he couldn't help but hate and despise himself for causing this end. If he had trusted Magnus, if he had let things be, trusted they would work out, not even contemplated going behind Magnus's back, none of this would have happened. Maybe he deserved this pain, this loneliness.

Maybe? Alec laughed softly and mirthlessly as he carefully wrapped the fresh cuts in a bandage and put away the razor—a human and mundane object, because he wouldn't dirty an angelic weapon with such a cowardly purpose. 'Maybe' didn't cover it. There was no 'maybe' about it—he definitely deserved the pain.

He thought back to the moment when he had explained what had happened to Isabelle, Jace and Clary. He had spoken without revealing any of this pain, his face and voice completely devoid of emotion. He wasn't sure what they had made of it, but Alec had been aiming mostly to throw them off, so they wouldn't hover over him and constantly try to make sure he was all right. Their affection and caring was the last thing he wanted or needed right now, especially when he knew Izzy would probably abuse Magnus for his 'overreaction' and Jace and Clary would try and reason with him, to speak to Magnus. Alec refused to hear a word against Magnus, but neither would he speak with Magnus. There was a reason he had hung up every time he'd called the warlock—he had nothing to say because there was nothing he could possibly say to atone for what he had done. No words Alec could come up with would make it okay, no actions would smooth it over. Encouragement to reach out to his now ex-boyfriend would only end badly.

He supposed he ought to move on, then, but somehow he just couldn't. Magnus had been the only one he had ever been with, and yet somehow, it was like he was the _only_ one. Alec couldn't picture himself being with anyone else, and he refused to contemplate Magnus with anyone else, even though Magnus was perfectly entitled to move on and might have done so already. Certainly, it was clinging to false hope to imagine otherwise, but there wasn't much else for Alec to cling to besides false hope and his ever-distant sister and _parabatai_.

Alec wasn't sure if he was imagining that last part—the distance between himself and Izzy and Jace. Jace, certainly, was often busy with Clary now, and there was that small matter of the fact that there was literally heavenly fire inside him now, and seeking a solution took up a good bit of Jace's attention as well as Clary's. That didn't mean his _parabatai_ didn't have his back anymore—they still trained and fought together—but Jace hadn't asked after his wellbeing since the day after Alec had told them what had happened, and Alec was certain Jace had no idea what he was going through. Izzy, on the other hand, simply seemed busier and busier with God only knew what, but whatever it was, she seemed to have little time to pay attention to her brother anymore except to tell him, "Well, if you're not going to be mad at him, go after him," on the one occasion she had caught him moping in the kitchen.

Alec hadn't intended for her to catch him moping, actually, as he was afraid that it might lead her to guess at the true strength of his inner pain, but apparently it hadn't made a difference.

Aside from Jace and Izzy, well, Alec had never been especially close to Clary, and he couldn't talk to his mother or father about this.

This had consequently left Alec completely alone, to handle his pain without any help or any real outlet for it. He supposed in a way that had been his subconscious plan, as he hadn't let on to what he was feeling at all, but he wasn't sure what end he had intended.

Whatever end had been intended to begin with, somehow he had ended up here, slicing his arms. It was weak, really, injuring himself because he couldn't deal with pain—Shadowhunters were supposed to be able to handle pain, physical and emotional, with no problems. Alec supposed the shame and guilt that came with the self-injury was the reason he wouldn't use any of his personal weapons. After all, if he used a seraph blade and simply didn't call it to action with its name, there was no real danger—it would have cause about as much damage as the mundane razor he now hid in his dresser drawer. But he couldn't bring himself to use his seraph blade in such a fashion.

Nor could Alec bring himself, or really allow himself, to use an _iratze_ on the cuts. He deserved the pain they caused while healing and right after they had been made, and again, there was something about using his Shadowhunter devices in relation to his self-injury that just seemed wrong. They would heal in their own time, not that he helped them along any—the only thing he ever did after cutting was wash the excess blood away and wrap a bandage around his cuts to stop the bleeding. Shadowhunters might replace blood at triple the rate of a human, but that didn't mean he was invulnerable to death by blood loss, and Alec wasn't taking any chances. This was his secret, and he wouldn't let anyone find out about it, especially not Izzy or Jace, both of whom would have very bad reactions to this behavior.

Alec supposed that was his real reason for keeping this a secret—he knew how Jace and Izzy would react. They would take it as a suicide threat, and overreact. He could practically hear Izzy wailing about it, calling for Jace, and then yelling at him later. He could envision the blame and anger in her eyes, the sparks that would fly when she demanded to know why he was doing it, the call she would probably place to Magnus. He could see the confusion and slight panic that would be Jace's first reaction, followed by frustration and anger. Alec could almost hear Jace first attempting to talk sense into him, and then picture the futile attempts Jace would take to protect Alec from himself—never leaving him alone, searching for his razors, keeping them hidden from Alec. And when that failed, as Alec knew it would because he was too determined in this to let Jace or anyone stop him, he could imagine Jace's fury, his anger born of fear that Alec would kill himself, either accidentally or on purpose, and confusion because he wouldn't be able to understand why Alec would do this to himself. Hurting yourself like this, Jace would tell him, served no purpose.

Jace just didn't understand. This was how Alec dealt with emotion now, with the pain and sadness and self-hatred and anger and loneliness and just constant mix of emotions, all forming a dangerous cocktail threatening to overwhelm him at every moment. Cutting was the only release Alec could find anymore—well, that and taking his life in his hands to go hunt demons alone.

Yes, there was that, too. Alec had been sneaking out every other night, alone, for the seven weeks since his breakup, to hunt and take out demons entirely alone, just him and his seraph blade. It was reckless, risky, and downright stupid, but there was something about it that made him feel alive, even for a few moments. If he ended up poisoned by a demon, maybe it was worth it just for that feeling of exhilaration it gave him.

Seven weeks….Alec looked in the mirror. Seven weeks since the breakup. He'd been self-injuring for six of those, nearly every day, and his arms were covered in thin scars and fresher cuts that he couldn't even number anymore. The first three weeks, it had been one cut each time, but from there it had escalated rapidly—the fourth week became two, the fifth was three cuts each time, the sixth four, and now he was up to five each time.

The seven weeks had taken their toll in other ways, though, ways that Alec could see when he looked in the mirror. There were dark, bruise-like shadows under his eyes—he'd barely slept since the breakup—and he was noticeably thinner, and he had been thin to begin with. It wasn't that Alec was deliberately starving himself or anything—he just hardly ever felt like eating anymore.

Alec sighed and tugged his sleeves back down. Both arms were covered in cuts now, slicing through the silvery scars of old and faded Marks, although thankfully there were no permanent ones on his arms. It was winter now, so no one questioned his wearing long sleeves all the time, although Izzy had commented that she found it odd how he refused to let anyone put Marks on his arms anymore. Nevertheless, this strangeness had been allowed to pass. Alec wasn't sure what he would do come summer, though—granted, he enjoyed wearing long sleeves, but even he would wear short sleeves at times and he was worried someone would notice if he continued to wear long sleeves year round.

Then again, maybe he didn't really have anything to worry about. It wasn't as though anyone had actually noticed that he was thinner, or not sleeping, or sneaking out at night, or utterly miserable.

It was as though no one even cared.

Actually, now that Alec considered this thought, it made sense—they were all probably just waiting for him to get over what they viewed as a minor heartbreak, and were all probably sick of his low mood and lack of energy or desire to really do anything these days. He could practically hear Jace demanding of Izzy when she thought he would be back to normal and when he would be done moping like a heartsick puppy.

Alec growled under his breath as this scene began to torment him. That they would think he was so weak…

But he was, wasn't he? _The cuts on my arms prove that_, Alec realized with a feeling of defeat. He was weak, and he was an idiot.

Alec collapsed on his bed, curling up in a ball and pressing his hands over his eyes, wishing he could simply will it all away, take the past eight or so weeks and simply eradicate them. He could go back, tell Magnus what Camille had offered, explain that he was going to turn it down because he could never do that to Magnus…

But no. Alec quickly and coldly clamped down on the flame of hope that flared inside him, extinguishing it as brutally as possible. There was no hope for his future with Magnus—there wasn't one, and there would never be one because there was no changing the past.

The only 'hope' he had to cling to right now was that Magnus hadn't moved on yet, and even that was an awful thing because it wasn't a hope so much as a vindictive desire, that Magnus would never move past him. And yet there was nothing for Alec to feel vindictive about, because as much as he was hurting, there was no one to place blame on but himself.

Alec sighed, the words 'Aku cinta kamu' still running on a loop in his mind. _It means I love you. Not that that changes anything._

_But why?_ Alec wanted to beg Magnus for an answer to the question circling his mind. _If you love me, why did you still leave? If you love someone, how can you bear to be apart from them?_

Alec knew the answer to that question: Magnus could bear to be apart because obviously, aside from Alec having fucked up royally, Magnus probably hadn't made quite as deep an attachment to Alec as Alec had to him. _But why tell me you love me right before you leave me?_ Alec cried out silently, uncovering his blue eyes to stare blankly at his ceiling. Maybe that was why he was feeling a bit vindictive—did he imagine it would have been easier to let this go if he hadn't known Magnus still loved him?

…No, Alec realized, it would have made it all the _more_ difficult, because a lack of that sentiment, even in parting forever, would have only confirmed his fears that the whole time he had meant so, so much less to Magnus than Magnus had to him. At least this way, it hurt, but Alec knew that until he had screwed up, he had actually meant something to Magnus. The words he had repeated over and over, 'I love you,' had been true. He hadn't just been another worthless fling in a long line of them…

_And you didn't believe it until it was too late_, Alec thought bitterly to himself. By the Angel, he was an _idiot_.

_You didn't trust me. You never have. _Magnus's voice echoed in his ears, and Alec knew the words were true.

Again. He. Was. An. Idiot. And so much worse…

It was one thing for Magnus to have been considering turning himself mortal, or for Alec to have decided to turn himself immortal. But for Alec to try and shorten Magnus's life like that, without even asking him? It was the same as if Magnus had considered allowing Alec to be bitten by a vampire. Yes, he would be immortal and they could be together forever—but he would hate every minute of it, because the choice would have been taken from him. Alec knew that was exactly how Magnus would have felt.

Alec groaned inwardly and shut his eyes, stretching out eagle-spread on his bed. God, why was he so stupid, why was he so—

"Alec? Can I come in?"

Alec sat up with dizzying speed, his eyes going to the dresser where the bandages still sat out. He couldn't let Izzy in with those out; his sister was observant, and she would definitely want to know why the hell he would need an enormous box of mundane bandages. Scrambling to his feet, Alec snatched up the box, opening the dresser as quickly and quietly as possible and stuffing the box in as he said, "Yeah, Izzy, what is it?" He quickly turned, leaning against the dresser to close the drawer as he tried to look casual and normal.

Isabelle entered his room, wrinkling her nose at the mess. Alec was usually fairly neat, but lately he simply hadn't found it in himself to bother keeping his room clean. "Jeez, Alec, what's with all the crap everywhere?"

"I was—looking for something." Alec heard himself speaking, heard himself tell an outright lie to his own sister. The fact that he could lie like that to his sister, so blatantly and without so much as a hitch in his voice, startled him. Holding back from telling Izzy how he felt, hiding his recent behaviors, that was one thing. But he couldn't recall any time prior where he had told an outright lie to his sister…

Izzy picked up an old training shirt off the floor and wrinkled her nose. Her tone was suspicious as she queried, "And you…ransacked your laundry hamper looking for it?"

"Oh, well, I wasn't sure where it might be, so…yeah…" Alec said lamely. He couldn't even lie properly, it seemed. Well, he had never been very good with deception, but honestly, if he was going to start now he might as well put his heart into it.

"What were you looking for?" Izzy asked with eyebrows raised as she dropped the shirt on the floor again.

"I…" Alec tossed his thoughts around for something to have been looking for. Sticking his hand in his pocket, he pulled out his wallet. It was unlikely for him to have misplaced it—he was usually quite careful—but he could chalk it up to distraction from post-breakup if she asked. "Misplaced my wallet."

"Oh," was all Izzy said in response. She looked around his messy room a second time, her expression odd and unreadable. Then she refocused on Alec, looking directly at him. "…Look, Alec, it's perfectly understandable that you're upset. I mean, you really did love Magnus, didn't you?" Her eyes softened at this, as if she could understand where he was coming from, but she didn't pause for an answer as she barreled on: "But you need to move on. Either call him and actually talk, or let him go, okay? You can't stay…stuck in stasis forever, just waiting for him to come back. You have to get closure somehow, so either accept that he's gone or try and fix things." Her tone was not unsympathetic, but it was firm and matter-of-fact. "I get that it hurts, but it will only hurt more if you keep…going on like this."

Alec resisted the urge to grit his teeth or clench his fists. No outward signs of anger. That was too much emotion, and he was supposed to be portraying detachment. Still, he couldn't help the anger rising inside him—he should have known. He should have known that Isabelle and Jace thought he was wallowing in his misery instead of moving on. They thought he was weak. He couldn't let go, not like a stronger person would have been able to, but he was too cowardly to go speak to Magnus. Alec could see all this and more in Isabelle's expression.

Well. He would prove them wrong. If they thought he should have moved on by now, if they cared that little for his feelings, then move on he would. In fact, he already had. Straightening up, Alec took a deep breath and said coolly, "I'm fine, Izzy, don't worry. I've already moved on, trust me. I know he's not coming back. I stopped calling him, didn't I?" After Jace had broken his phone to stop him calling Magnus (and of course immediately hanging up the phone), Alec had gotten a new one and made a point of not calling Magnus—at least, not openly. But then, it wasn't like Magnus was going to call Jace and tell him to get Alec to stop calling, and Izzy and Jace didn't need to know what Alec did in his free time. And besides, it wasn't like the behavior of calling Magnus meant that he wasn't moving on. Alec wasn't sure that he could move on from this, so what did it matter if he tried or not?

"Yeah…" Isabelle said in a dubious tone, studying his face. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't seem like…you. And you look like you haven't slept in days."

Alec shrugged off her concern, pasting a smile on his face. "I'm fine, Izzy, relax. As for the lack of sleep, I had a late night last night. I was out." It was true—he had been out—just not the kind of out he was implying. Alec was banking on the fact that she wouldn't think him crazy enough to go after a demon alone, and would instead assume he had gone out to, say, a club, possibly to try and meet someone new. Granted, it wasn't something Alec would have ever done before, and for a minute he was nervous she would be suspicious.

The ruse worked, though, as Isabelle's eyes widened. "Oh. You—you went out. So…you really are over Magnus, then?"

"Of course I am, Iz," Alec said, mustering a more real smile for her. It was difficult, but not as difficult as he'd expected—it was easier to make the smile real for his sister, apparently. "Anyway, was there anything in particular you wanted?"

"Oh—yeah! Jace and I thought we might go out hunting, you want to come?" Isabelle asked him. Alec noticed for the first time that she was dressed in black jeans and a black tank top, hunting clothes, with a stele and seraph blade in the weapons belt around her waist. Her whip, of course, was around her wrist. Her eyes were alight with the anticipation of a fight as she asked, and Alec realized she expected him to say yes.

But…somehow, the idea of hunting 'safely,' in a group, in the daytime, with Izzy and Jace…it simply didn't pique his interest. Alec wanted nothing more right now than to stay at home and lay on his bed. "…No, I'll come next time. I'd rather stay here today. I mean, I have a room to clean, and I haven't practiced in seven weeks, you don't want someone who's rusty out with you." Sure, the excuse was lame because seven weeks wasn't really enough time for a Shadowhunter to become truly rusty, but it could still be called a legitimate concern. Not only that, but as far as Jace and Isabelle knew, he hadn't been out hunting in the past seven weeks either. It would probably be understandable to them that he might want to practice some before going out again.

Isabelle's eyes narrowed, but then she sighed and shrugged. "If you say so, Alec. I'll see you later, then, okay?" She turned and left his room.

Alec sighed and collapsed back on his bed, suddenly feeling extremely weary. He shut his eyes and willed himself to sink into the temporary darkness behind his eyelids.

**So…yeah! Just finished reading CoLS, had feels to get out, this is the result. Intended to be a oneshot but now debating making it into a twoshot or maybe multi-chap…**

**Read and review if you liked it, let me know if you think I should continue it. Thanks!**


	2. How I Cope

**So, after consideration, I've decided to turn this into a four-shot fanfiction of sorts, so here's the second…chapter thing.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Instruments. I wish I owned Mortal Instruments because that would make me awesome, but I don't.**

It had been roughly twenty-one weeks, or five months, since the day of the breakup. Alec was getting much better at putting on a show for his family and friends, but he was nowhere near better. If anything, he was getting steadily worse.

Oh, sure, he went out hunting with Jace and Izzy and Clary again, and he came down for meals now instead of wallowing in his room, and he did, on occasion, go out and about to do things. He had even gone on a date his father had arranged with a girl from another Shadowhunter family. It seemed Robert Lightwood still hadn't adjusted to his son's sexual orientation, and apparently was under the impression that now Magnus was gone, a date with a pretty girl would set Alec straight. Both literally and figuratively.

It hadn't worked, and Alec hadn't seen her since, although she seemed to have enjoyed herself on the date.

Despite this outward appearance, though, Alec was doing much, much worse. He barely slept these days, although no one commented on the circles under his eyes anymore—if challenged about them, Alec was likely to react with enough venom that even Jace would be taken aback. Despite the fact that he did come down for meals, Alec rarely ate, only consuming enough to keep him going until the next fight, the next cut, the next kill, whatever it took to make him feel as close to happy as he could possibly get. His arms were covered in cuts and scars now, but luckily the weather was still cold enough that no one questioned his long sleeves.

There were other bad habits Alec had gotten into, besides going demon hunting alone at night and self-injuring. He had begun experimenting with demon drugs every now and again, poison though it might be, and on the few nights he hadn't gone demon hunting, Alec had found himself in a bar drinking until he was close to passing out. How he had managed to stumble home those few nights, Alec wasn't sure—he'd never been much of a drinker, that was Izzy. Still, he had managed to do it somehow.

Yes, Alec was on a downward spiral, steadily getting worse, not that he would admit as much to himself. On the rare occasion that Alec questioned himself, he would simply tell himself that the pain he was experiencing had to be dealt with somehow, and there was nothing wrong with how he was handling it. And it wasn't like he drank or used drugs often—maybe once a month, or twice. Granted, he was self-injuring nearly every day, but that was just a coping method as well. As for demon-hunting alone, it was certainly reckless, but it was in no way an issue. He was doing his job, and he was ridding the world of demons. There was no harm in that.

Never mind the fact that he had almost considered going without a stele and seraph blade a few times, just to see what it would feel like to die from demon poison or blood loss…he knew he would never actually do such a thing. At least, he was fairly certain.

Besides, Alec wasn't sure he wanted to die in the sort of agony Jace was clearly experiencing right now.

Alec, Izzy and Jace had gone out on a Shadowhunting mission—demon killing, of course, what else? It had turned out to be a few spider demons, or Arachna demons, nothing that they shouldn't have been able to handle. But at some point during the fight, things had gone bad, and Jace had been poisoned by one of the spines on the demons' bodies—and the poison on those spines was fatal if not dealt with.

Right now, Alec was hauling Jace back into the Institute with the help of Isabelle. Jace was feverish already, moaning in pain and mumbling gibberish that Alec wasn't bothering to pay attention to. For the first time in a while, Alec was feeling an actual emotion rather than the same old tired sadness. He was feeling a mix of fear and panic—fear that his _parabatai_ would die from this, panic because there was nothing he could do, but also panic because he knew who they would soon be calling.

Alec had not seen Magnus since the breakup; or at least, Alec wasn't sure he had seen him. There had been one night, at a bar, when a flash of glitter had caught his eye…but Alec hadn't stayed to find out, hadn't looked closely, had simply stood and left. Besides, he had already been stone-drunk at that point, and it was possible he had simply imagine the flash of glitter.

Having not seen or even spoken to Magnus since the breakup (he still called, but also still hung up every single time, even when Magnus actually answered rather than letting it go to voice mail), Alec was panicking about seeing him again, especially in his own home.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be no way around it. The second Jace was in a bed in the infirmary of the Institute, Isabelle was whirling away, not even stopping to ask how Alec would feel about this as she said, "I'll call Magnus."

They would have to pay him this time, Alec knew, and wondered why they didn't simply call a different warlock. After all, if they were having to pay now, surely any warlock would do and Alec didn't have to put himself through the pain of seeing Magnus. But Alec knew why they were calling Magnus anyway—because Magnus was the best, and if anyone could help Jace right now, it was most definitely him.

Alec also thought he knew why Izzy hadn't asked if he was all right with the summoning of Magnus. One, because Jace was his _parabatai_, and that bond came before everything, even personal feelings. If Magnus could help Jace most, it didn't matter if Alec didn't want to see Magnus here—it didn't matter because Alec was honor-bound to protect Jace to the end and do his best to help him, including summoning the best warlock possible to heal him. It also didn't matter because if they summoned a different warlock and he couldn't help Jace, Jace would die, and then Alec would be left feeling like half a person, and there would have been no point to trying to avoid emotional pain anyway. Two, Izzy was frantic right now. She was trying to hide it, but Alec could tell when his sister was on the verge of panic, and right now, she definitely was. When Izzy was panicked because someone she cared about was hurt, she didn't stop to consider others and their feelings—she just leaped ahead into what needed to be done.

These two reasons were easier to accept than what Alec thought, deep down inside, might be the real reason: _She doesn't care. She doesn't care if I hurt, she doesn't care if I'm in pain seeing him, and maybe she's just sick of dealing with me altogether._

Yes, that thought had been plaguing Alec quite often recently. The question of whether or not the others really knew what was going on, or at least had an inkling, and didn't care to ask because they were all sick of him being around, were sick of dealing with him and the emotional weakness he should have let go of several months back.

The idea wasn't as far a stretch of the imagination as one might think, either. After all, Alec's father and mother were already disappointed in him—seeing him upset over a warlock they thought he shouldn't have loved to begin with probably disappointed them to the point of not caring for him anymore, even his mother, who had seemed all right with the situation at first. Jace was never one for caring about emotional struggles anyway, and since that was the only thing Alec was dealing with these days, Jace probably didn't care about him beyond having him physically functional enough to watch his back in a fight. (And Alec had failed even that.) Izzy was always colder in terms of emotional troubles, especially those related to love, and he had watched her compassion and sympathy turn to what he believed to be exasperation and abandonment.

And then there was Clary. Much to his surprise, after those first awful seven weeks, Clary had approached him and asked him to train with her. It had gone decently for a while, and Clary had begun to question him about how he was feeling, how he was doing, the circles under his eyes, where he went at nights, if he was okay. But Alec hadn't told her anything, hadn't given an inch, even though everything in him was screaming to give in to the weakness, let the emotional pain out, show that he wasn't enough of a Shadowhunter to be able to handle things on his own. Instead, Alec had shut Clary out, snapped at her, treated her coldly, met her every warm and friendly advance with a chilly rebuff. After some time, Clary had stopped training with him, finally giving up.

This had left Alec completely alone, free to handle things as he pleased, and though he could pretend otherwise, it had been a long and dark downhill from there—and Alec could tell there was still more to go, on the rare occasion that he allowed himself to recognize this downward spiral. But then he would push that worry away, and go back to pretending it wasn't a problem and that he didn't care, because, _It's not a problem, it's just how I'm coping_, Alec reminded himself again.

The door to the infirmary opened again and Alec looked up to see Izzy standing there, her face pale, her dark eyes seeming huge in her face as she stared at Jace, plainly scared for his life.

Alec forced the usual smile, wracking his brain for something to say. "…He's survived worse, Izzy. He'll be fine." It was true, too—it had been barely a month since the ritual the Silent Brothers had performed, the one that had banished the holy fire from inside of Jace. Alec had been present, and had seen Jace almost literally go up in flames. He had nearly died, and yet he lived still. Not to mention the countless other times Jace had cheated death—Alec was certain his _parabatai_ would be fine once again.

Izzy glared at him, and Alec could see her shoving off her own fear and panic in exchange for anger and certainty as she snapped at him, "Of course he will. I know that." She shook herself slightly, then told him, "Magnus is on his way. I told him we'd pay, but he didn't want it…apparently he still likes us enough to do us a favor now and again. Are you going to be…okay…?" Her eyes expressed mild concern as she searched his face.

Alec kept his smile pasted on, forcing his expression to be neutral—no, not neutral, calm, calm and collected, smiling slightly because he wasn't bothered that the warlock was coming here. "Of course, Iz, I'll be fine."

Isabelle seemed convinced, nodding slightly as apparent relief crossed her face. "Oh, good. Because, you know, there's really no one as good as Magnus who we can trust to do as brilliant a job as he will, and—"

Alec raised one hand and cut her off. "Relax, Izzy, I'm fine," he assured her, making his voice warm and calm, keeping his expression as neutral as he could, anything to shield the fact that inside he was already struggling with sadness, loneliness, guilt, anger and every other emotion that always swirled in the maelstrom inside him. He was already thinking of the silver razor hidden in his drawer and how quickly he could get to it, how soon he would be able to find relief.

A slight smirk crossed his face. This was what it had come down to—hurting himself to try and keep himself from the breaking point, when in reality he was probably just pushing himself closer with every single cut. He truly was broken, not that he could really help that anymore—the only thing he could do was conceal it, and cope in the best way he knew how.

Shaking away these thoughts, Alec tried to focus on what Izzy was saying.

"—going to stay with him for the healing?" Her eyes were questioning, and Alec gathered that she had asked him if he planned to stay with Jace for this.

"Of course," Alec answered, "whether Magnus agrees or not." Saying his name was like a fresh slice to the heart. Hearing it was one thing, thinking it another, but Alec hadn't allowed himself to speak that name since the day their relationship had ended. Alec struggled to control his expression, to not let Izzy know how deep the pain still ran, that even saying Magnus's name was like ripping his heart in half.

"Oh, good!" Isabelle said with a relieved smile. She seemed to have not even noticed. At that moment, the doorbell rang to the Institute, and Isabelle ran to get it. Their parents were in Idris right now, leaving Alec in charge of the Institute as the only of-age Shadowhunter there.

Izzy returned fifteen minutes later with Magnus, and Alec couldn't help wondering what had taken them so long to get up here—it wasn't like the door to the Institute was _that_ far away from the infirmary. His hair gelled into a million tiny spikes and sprinkled with glitter, dressed in sparkly leather pants and a black T-shirt with some glittering purple design on it, he looked as vibrant and sparkly as ever. Alec swallowed hard at the familiar sight that stabbed him in the heart, although he struggled to appear indifferent.

Magnus swept into the room. "Isabelle, dear, you can leave now," he said, waving her away.

Izzy knew better than to question the warlock about to heal her adopted brother for free, whether she and Magnus were on good terms or not, and so with a last glance at Alec (possibly to make sure he was still emotionally stable and not about to flip out), she left.

Magnus glanced at Alec, looking a bit uncomfortable. Alec had only ever seen him uncomfortable a few times, and now that he considered it, those times always seemed to be related to something Alec himself had said or done. "…And I suppose you're going to be sticking around, as you are his _parabatai._"

"You suppose right," Alec muttered, resolutely staring at Jace and _not_ Magnus. Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at him… Alec kept repeating the mantra in his head, sweeping one hand through his hair in an effort to keep himself from returning his gaze to the sparkly warlock. He felt his sleeve slip and promptly tugged it back down, not bothering to care if Magnus had seen. Love or not, Alec was pretty sure that you didn't leave the one you loved to experience unimaginable emotional pain and never, ever contact them again, and he was also fairly certain that Magnus would react like the others and simply not care.

There was a short silence, then, "Fair enough," Magnus said, and Alec thought he detected a bit of guardedness in Magnus's tone. Well, that wasn't really a surprise.

Alec sat stone-still on Jace's left side for nearly an hour as Magnus worked his healing spell. Alec paid little attention to what Magnus was doing—in fact, he tried his best to ignore Magnus altogether. Instead Alec focused on Jace, holding Jace's hand so Jace knew Alec was there for him, praying to the Angel that Jace would be all right, although he knew he'd no reason to worry now that Magnus was working on him.

Still, anything to keep him from looking at Magnus, or listening to Magnus chant, or even really thinking about Magnus.

Granted, it was very difficult to avoid thinking about Magnus on a daily basis, and even more so with the person in question in the very same room as Alec himself. Nevertheless, Alec gave it a valiant effort, mostly because he was trying to keep himself from adding even more hurt to the storm swirling around in him. All Alec needed to do was hang on until Magnus left, and then he would be free to do what he wanted.

The cutting had gotten worse, if Alec dared to admit it—there were no longer specific reasons for each cut, and it was a different number each time. There was a haphazard frenzy to it, rather than the calm rationale that used to be connected to it.

"There. He should be fine—he'll sleep for a few hours, though." Alec glanced up as Magnus spoke, his gaze instantly drawn to the sparkly warlock, sitting in a chair at the end of Jace's bed.

"Good," Alec mumbled, looking at Magnus for a moment. He looked…tired, Alec realized, with dark circles under his yellow-green cat eyes.

Magnus looked up then, studying Alec. "…How have you been?"

"Why do you care?" Alec shot back instantly, going right into defense mode.

"Isabelle claims you speak to everyone who so much as asks how you are in that tone, so I suppose I shouldn't feel especially offended," Magnus observed, propping his chin in his hand and keeping his gaze fixed on Alec. "You know, shutting people out isn't going to help you. It's not a particularly healthy way of dealing with things, either."

Alec was silent as he returned his gaze to Jace. Part of him was begging him to talk to Magnus, the person with whom he used to share everything, and part was urging him to keep everything in as he had been doing for the past five months. Finally, Alec settled for the response of, "I'm not shutting people out." _What a convincing lie that was, _Alec thought sarcastically.

Magnus was clearly not convinced, but he didn't challenge Alec, instead saying dubiously, "If you say so." Alec could feel Magnus's gaze on him, although he tried to pretend he couldn't. Magnus was silent for a moment, and then said critically, "You're thinner. And you look exhausted. Have you been getting any sleep lately?"

"Why do you care?" Alec muttered in a petulant tone.

Magnus sighed. "Fine, don't answer the question…" Really, he already had his answer—when he had first arrived, Isabelle had spent ten full minutes informing him that Alec was doing terribly, barely slept or ate anymore, and then expositing the reasons why it was his fault. Of course, Magnus hadn't thought Alec could really be doing as poorly as she claimed he was, and had reminded himself that Isabelle was fairly prone to drama, but the sight of Alec had been something of a shock. Alec had always been lean, but now he was thinner than ever, essentially skin and bones (his sweater basically hanging off his frame), and pale enough that he could almost have passed for a vampire. The circles under his eyes were dark enough to make it appear as though he hadn't slept at all in the past week, and there was the matter of what Magnus was nearly certain he had seen when Alec's sleeve had slipped. Sitting there and looking at this shadow of the person Alec used to be was a rather haunting experience for Magnus, especially when he considered the fact that Alec seemed to only be getting worse and didn't even seem to care. Magnus couldn't help wondering if Alec knew the distress he was causing Isabelle, or even if he realized how very obvious it was just from looking at him that he was doing poorly. Probably not, because Alec usually went to great lengths to keep Isabelle and the others he cared about from worrying about him, but Magnus wondered how it was possible that Alec could look at himself in the mirror and not see the extreme pallor of his skin, or how very thin he was, or how obvious his lack of sleep was.

Actually, all things considered, Magnus reflected, it was amazing that the demon hadn't gotten _Alec_ rather than Jace—Jace, at least, was fit and still in good health. Alec, on the other hand, looked like the walking dead, and a demon would probably have found him easy prey, or at least Magnus would have thought as much. Then again, it was possible that the only reason the demon had been able to poison Jace was because of a failure to stop it on Alec's part…

Shaking his head slightly, Magnus commented, "You know, Isabelle's worried about you."

Alec's eyes snapped to Magnus at this comment. Really? She was? No, she couldn't be. She hadn't seemed at all concerned… "Sure she is," Alec said with a sigh, wincing inwardly at how defeated and utterly doubting his tone sounded. He had intended it to be biting and sarcastic—he'd found that talking like that usually made people shut up (although there was the question of if that would _really_ work on Magnus, who could probably match him in tone and wasn't likely to give up). Instead, he may as well have said 'Actually, that's impossible, because no one cares about me anymore, and you shouldn't either.' So much for keeping Magnus out alongside everyone else. He got to his feet, restless, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them again as he looked away from Magnus and fixed his gaze on the wall.

Magnus looked at him with slight incredulity. "…You don't think your _sister_ is worried about you. Your _sister_, who is extremely prone to dramatics and has always worried about you to no end when even the slightest little thing was wrong and who cares for you a great deal."

Alec scowled. "Do you really need to stick your nose into everything?" he demanded.

"No, I don't _need_ to. However, I rather want to." Magnus informed him, his tone akin to that of a person explaining the obvious to someone who should have already understood.

"Why?" Alec snapped. "None of this concerns you."

Magnus's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Alec, the fact that we broke up doesn't change the fact that I care about you, and right now I have to say I'm fairly concerned for you."

"Sure," Alec muttered sarcastically. "I don't know why you would be, but whatever."

Magnus's eyes widened in astonishment. "…Have you looked in a mirror lately? Alec, you look awful."

Alec gritted his teeth. He was trying desperately to convince himself that Magnus didn't really care and also wondering if he really did look awful. Surely someone else would have commented if he did? Turning his gaze back to Magnus, Alec snapped, "Look, just leave me alone, okay? You healed Jace already—now leave."

Magnus's expression was unreadable as he looked back at Alec. "Fine. Before I do, though, I have one last question…" He crossed the room to where Alec was standing, caught his arm, and before Alec could pull away, pushed up the sleeve of Alec's sweater to reveal a multitude of scars and cuts on his arm. Magnus flinched inwardly at the sheer number of them, but some part of him couldn't help denying the evidence in front of his eyes. It couldn't be. Alec wouldn't do this… "What are these?" he asked before he could stop himself, his eyes going to Alec's face, searching for some kind of explanation besides what he knew the scars to be. Alec, for his part, looked like a deer in headlights.

Alec also happened to be feeling like a deer in headlights, standing frozen with Magnus gripping his arm, his scars and cuts exposed to someone other than himself. He felt nothing, though, besides shock, numbness, and slight panic. What was he going to say? What was he going to do?

The latter question was answered as he yanked his arm free and shoved his sleeve back down. The former question was answered as he muttered the first thing that came to mind: "Nothing."

…_Genius, Alec, genius. You could say anything in the world, any lame excuse to try and cover up what you've been doing, and you say _nothing. _Pure brilliance there_, Alec thought to himself angrily. It wasn't much use trying to cover what he had done, though; he could see in Magnus's face that he already knew what the scars were.

"_Nothing_," Magnus repeated incredulously. Alec turned to see that the warlock was staring at him with a mixture of shock, disbelief, worry and sadness. He also looked slightly sickened from having seen what Alec had done to himself. "You really expect me to believe that."

Alec glared at him, angry now. He could obviously tell what the cuts were and how they'd gotten there, because really, there was no other explanation—why the _hell_ was he so determined to hear Alec say it? "You should know what they are," he snapped, "so why the hell are you so bent on me saying it‽"

Magnus threw his hands up in frustration. "I don't know! Because I'm finding it very hard to accept that you would do that! Really, Alec, why are you doing this?" His expression was equal parts frustration and sadness.

Seeing the sadness—actual _sadness_ and concern, not _pity_—it drained the fight right out of him. Alec stood there for a moment, then said quietly, "Look, it's nothing you need to concern yourself with. It's nothing bad, it's not like I'm going to kill myself. This is just…how I cope." With that said, Alec shoved past Magnus, now standing frozen with an expression caught between disbelief and fear, and made his way out the door as quickly as he could. Being a Shadowhunter, this was incredibly fast, fast enough that Magnus barely even had a chance to turn before Alec was shutting the door to the infirmary.

Slamming the door behind him, Alec leaned against it for a moment, letting the strange high of energy that had come with the confrontation drain away, leaving nothing but anxiety behind. He turned and took off down the hallway, walking quickly away from the infirmary and heading straight for his room, to deal with his anxiety and other swirling emotions the only way he could think of.

**Okay, that's the second part! There is going to be a third part, although I still don't know if I'll do just another one-shot or if I'll keep going and actually turn it into a story…we'll see. This last one kind of has a chapter-y feel to it, so I might make this into a legit story…**

**The next one might be happy, or it might crush your heart and soul to pieces! I haven't decided yet.**

**Also: ** **INTERROBANG! Gotta love it.**

**Oh, yeah—please review! Let me know what you thought, and also, I have a question for y'all: **


	3. Author Note

**Hey guys. I thought I'd put out this note. I'm putting the story on a two to three-week hold because I just cut my finger on the lid of a can and I had to get four stitches and typing is really, really difficult right now, and really, really painful. So. Story: put on hold for a short time. Sorry! :P**

**-Ashe**


	4. The Answer to Everything

**So! Finally back to normal, and midterms are over, and I've gotten around to writing the third piece of this thing! There will be one more one-shot thing after this, so…here's the third part!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Instruments.**

It had been four—possibly five?—weeks since Magnus had visited. As promised, Jace was better, but Alec was much worse. Magnus hadn't been by at all since the day he'd come to heal Jace, and Alec wasn't sure what the warlock could possibly be thinking about what he'd learned that day. Alec wasn't especially surprised that the other man hadn't stopped by. After all, it wasn't like Alec being so completely stuck on Magnus was anything for Magnus to be happy about. In fact, Alec imagined Magnus was fairly annoyed with it. Doing _that_ over a stupid break-up looked like nothing more than a cry for attention…

Alec sighed, leaning his head against the wall behind him. He'd hoped, those first few days after Magnus had seen, that he might return to try and talk to Alec about it, but after a week had gone by Alec had accepted that Magnus wasn't coming back anytime soon. Maybe, Alec reasoned, he was trying to put distance between the two in the hopes it would snap Alec out of this…or maybe he was just disgusted at how weak Alec was being.

Either way, Magnus wasn't coming back anytime soon, that much was clear.

"Alec?"

Alec grimaced at the sound of Isabelle's voice through his door. He wasn't sure if Magnus had told her anything or not—after all, it wasn't like she and Jace had come bursting into his room to search for his razors and bandages and take them away, nor had they even mentioned the problem to him. At the same time, neither one seemed to want to leave him alone for more than five minutes, and even though he'd been hiding out in his room the entire four weeks since the incident, he felt like he couldn't get one minute's peace without one of them knocking at his door. Always wanting to know if he was all right, did he need anything, did he want to talk, maybe explain why he was hiding in his room…

Alec always ended up telling them to go away. He'd faced the moment again and again: Izzy or Jace was standing right outside his door, asking (or demanding, depending on their moods) to know what was going on and why he wouldn't come out. Alec would get to his feet, about to let them in, about to spill _everything_ and show off all the cuts (which were steadily marching their way up his arms to his shoulders because there wasn't room on his forearms anymore)—and then he'd stop. He would stand stock still for a moment, staring at the door, his half outstretched hand reaching for the handle, and he'd wonder what the hell he was doing. What could he possibly accomplish by showing off how weak he was? Alec would shake his head, denying that they needed to know, denying that this was a problem, and then he'd turn away from the door, walking to the other side of the room, snapping just loud enough for whoever was outside to hear, telling them to go away.

Izzy always went away immediately. Alec figured she didn't really care. She was probably sick of his behavior by this point and only continued asking to fulfill her 'sisterly obligations' and pretend she wasn't thoroughly irritated by him and his obvious weakness.

Jace, though…Jace always proved to be more of a challenge. In fact, the fifth day Alec had spent hiding in his room had seen Jace pounding on his door and demanding to know why, in the name of the Angel, Alec refused to speak to him or open the goddamn door. Alec had finally been forced to answer him, just to get him to go away and stop attempting to break in the bedroom door. Alec wouldn't have bothered to answer had it not been for two things: one, he was rather fond of the door at the moment as it was the only thing between him and them, and two, had Jace come in at that moment he would have seen blood everywhere and probably panicked.

And then later…he would have been angry with Alec for being so colossally stupid, for letting his emotions get to him in such an un-Shadowhunter-like way, and he might even have been ashamed to be Alec's _parabatai_.

That had been the only reason Alec had answered. But since then…well, limited human contact was all right, even if every conversation seemed to send him spiraling into the pits of despair because they reminded him of everyone he was disappointing, even if they didn't know it, and reminded him of the duties he was shirking by hiding up here, alone in the darkness (never turning on the lights did wonders for the night vision). It reminded him that there were demons that needed to be killed, and he was leaving the other Shadowhunters to do it, was leaving his _parabatai_ to fight alone, all because Alec was too weak and emotional to simply move on and do what he was supposed to. No, instead of being a true Shadowhunter, Alec was hiding in his room like a scared child, addicted to a silver blade and unable to handle even the slightest of emotions without spilling his own blood.

"Alec?"

Oh, right. Izzy was still out there. Alec had nearly forgotten.

"…Go away, Izzy," Alec said after a moment. His tone was weary and mildly annoyed, and Alec hoped this would a short conversation, because he didn't think he had the energy for a long one, and besides, his emotions were already starting to dip thanks to those pesky reminders Izzy (unintentionally) brought with her…and he wasn't sure his arms could take any more today. His upper arms were already decorated with fresh slices, some of which were beginning to bleed through the bandages he'd put on them, although luckily his shirt was black and any blood that leaked through wouldn't show too much. All the same, Alec didn't think his already aching arms could take another…episode.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Izzy's voice was cautious and quiet. "I mean…you haven't eaten since yesterday morning. Alec, it's 8 o'clock at night."

Right. Food. Alec hadn't really been eating much in the past few weeks—not that he'd been eating much before, but his appetite for food had gone down even more since then, and even choking down a slice of bread was a challenge. He would rather avoid it altogether.

When Alec didn't answer, Izzy continued, "I'm leaving some food outside your door, okay?"

Alec didn't answer, and he could hear her soft sigh before she turned and walked away. Alec didn't feel like bothering with the food. They left food outside three times a day, although he rarely ate any of it, mostly because he wasn't hungry and partly because he didn't often feel like opening the door enough to get the plate.

Besides, he didn't even need the food they gave him. He ate at night, when he went out.

That was the other thing that had become commonplace for him: sneaking out late at night, although not to hunt demons as he'd used to, but instead to partake in demon drugs.

Alec sighed, thinking about the demon drugs. He'd dabbled at first—one powder pinch here, one powder pinch there, nothing too serious, nothing too strong, never really diving into the experience all the way. And then…well, it had been the night after the incident with Magnus. Deep cuts had lined his forearms, a bit deeper than usual, and Alec had felt even worse than what was normal for him now, if that was possible. He'd wanted more than a little high; he had wanted something that would actually make him feel _better_, if only for an hour or so.

With that in mind, Alec had dropped into an opium den of sorts, although of course it was for demonic drugs rather than mundane ones. He'd gotten a bit more than usual, taken all of it in one go, thinking that surely it wouldn't cause too much of a problem to do it just this once.

And therein lay the problem—maybe if he'd done it once, it wouldn't have been an issue. But that hour had been so…so…amazing, euphoric, _perfect_, he had wanted nothing more than to do it again. And again. And again.

He couldn't help it. The drugs gave him, in a sense, exactly what he wanted.

Hallucinogenic in nature, the powders Alec took every time he went were always the same: they gave you a dream, of sorts, of whatever you desired most. And for Alec, that was always Magnus. Every time he took the powder, there was Magnus, standing in front of him again, not ashamed or pitying but loving. And the dreams that followed…well. Some were pleasant and sweet, and some made Alec turn bright red just remembering them, but either way, those memories were the happiest ones he had from the past four weeks.

The only problem with this being, of course, that none of these memories were real. They were fake, induced by drugs, and Alec could never get Magnus back except through those drug dens he now frequented. The drugs and their hallucinations made Alec happy, and he could never get enough of them, and through them, Magnus. So Alec went back time and time again, taking larger and larger doses each time, although thus far he'd been careful to avoid a fatal dose and equally careful to avoid anything that would keep him from making it back here by dawn. Needless to say, if he were gone and Izzy or Jace knocked, neither one would waste time smashing his door to bits to find out why he wasn't answering again, and if they found he was gone…

It would be a problem. After all, the drugs had become an important part of how he coped—no, not a big part of a big problem, Alec told himself, an important part of how he was _coping_. If they were taken away from him…well, Alec wasn't sure what he'd be left with.

Alec paused, rethinking that sentence. Without drugs, he wasn't sure what he'd be left with… Self-harm. He would be left with self-harm.

Alec laughed bitterly, allowing himself to really think it for the first time in four weeks: he was mess. He was just a mess, and he was slowly getting more and more screwed up, between the drugs and the self-harm and the not eating and the rarely ever sleeping. He was amazed he hadn't been hallucinating from lack of sleep—but then again, maybe the feverish, drug-induced sleeps counted for his body, because he didn't often feel tired, where before he'd felt physically exhausted almost all the time. No, now he only felt mentally and emotionally exhausted, and that wasn't a problem at all because that exhaustion (no, not depression, because even when being 'truthful' Alec wouldn't use _that _word) was easily dealt with via a razorblade.

Cutting and drugs. That was his life, down to a nutshell. He never saw his family anymore, and he figured he'd never see Magnus ever again. He hardly ever spoke to his family. He spent all his time either curled up in the dark of his room, alone, or cutting (in his room or out, it didn't matter), or drugged out of his mind (sometimes in his room, because he always brought a little extra powder home).

It was pathetic.

Alec sighed, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands, raking his fingers through his extremely tangled hair. He wondered, vaguely, when the last time he had washed it was. He didn't keep a regular schedule anymore, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd showered or cleaned his room. His once immaculate living space was now cluttered and messy from not bothering to keep anything in order; if he knocked something over or threw something during one of his emotional episodes, he left it where it fell. There were bloodstains here and there on the carpet from where he'd not been careful enough when cutting to keep the blood from dripping onto the floor, and clothes lay everywhere, although Alec had no clue what was dirty and what was clean.

It was funny how things like that would have bothered him in the past, but now he could hardly bring himself to care. It made him feel weary to even contemplate doing something about the mess, and so rather than trouble himself, he simply did nothing and pretended it wasn't a problem that his room was getting messier by the day.

There was only one thing he knew the location of within his room, and that was his razorblade and bandages stash, because Alec always returned those precious items to the same places.

Yes, that was literally the only thing he knew the location of anymore—he couldn't find his stele, though he knew it was in the mess somewhere. Alec simply couldn't bring himself to look for it. After all, he hadn't bothered with hunting for the past four weeks and wasn't going to bother anytime soon, so it wasn't like he had much use for it.

Looking at the clock, Alec realized that somehow, two hours had gone by without him even noticing. 10 o'clock. Time to head out, Alec thought numbly as he headed mechanically into his nighttime routine.

It was always the same: he started off into the night on autopilot, only really awakening when he reached the drug den, immediately buying powders with his money (he was running out, though, and even though it made him feel horribly guilty, Alec had to admit to having considered 'borrowing' from Izzy or Jace to pay for the drugs, though he hadn't done it yet). Then he would head into a quieter room in the back, down the powder in one go, and spend the night in a sweet hallucinogenic haze.

Then he'd wake up and stumble back, half out of it, barely mentally present, to the Institute. He'd make his way up to his room, climbing the wall as he always did (thank the Angel his room was one with a window and not one in the center of the building), and collapsing on his bed to wait out the last few trickling dregs of the drug. The last drops never did much, just made him feel languid and tired and a bit over-warm as they slowly dissolved away to nothingness, leaving him with just that—nothing.

Naturally, leaving on autopilot every night and returning barely half-awake from drugged dreams each morning meant that Alec was now very good at climbing up and down the wall, so much so he barely needed to focus on what he was doing anymore. He'd become rather well acquainted with the ground before he'd really gotten good at climbing up the wall when he returned home, but climbing down it while completely sober was easy, even if Alec was paying no attention whatsoever to what he was doing.

Alec landed on the ground gracefully, light on his toes to as to make absolutely no sound, and then he made his way across the grounds, glancing back every so often to make sure no one saw him. Izzy and Jace were still up, but Alec knew from past experience they wouldn't bother to knock and try and speak with him after ten, since they were both simply getting ready to go to sleep. They'd be in bed shortly, and they never took the time to say goodnight. After all, what was the point in wasting your time saying good night to a door that probably wouldn't answer you anyway?

Alec felt a small smile cross his face as he left the Institute, the thrill of anticipation coming over him as he headed for the closest den.

Inside, it was crowded, and (to Alec's ears, which were accustomed to hearing mostly silence) noisy, and (to Alec's eyes, which were used to being in the near-total darkness of his room) brightly lit. In short, it was everything Alec had come to detest, made even more repulsive by the fact that there were actually a few demons there, alongside the Downworlders who came to the place, the warlocks who ran it, and the ifrit who worked there.

Alec could feel gazes from other patrons on him. Well, that made sense. They were all Downworlders, except for him, and for most of them it was a very uncommon and probably entirely new sight to witness a Shadowhunter in the Downworld version of an _opium den_. Alec didn't let it bother him, though. He knew they wouldn't attack him, considering the fact that he barely appeared a threat these days. Alec made a point of not looking in the mirror, but when he did, he had to face the truth: he looked awful. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes more sunken, his arms and legs basically skin and bones, over-large clothing hanging off his now unhealthily skinny and pasty frame. The circles under his eyes were still there, prominent as ever, like large purple bruises—apparently drug-induced sleep didn't help with the actual physical benefits of sleep, though it made him feel rested enough. The clothes hanging off him revealed shoulders with old scars and fresh cuts on them, all self-inflicted, and his hair was now halfway down his neck, constantly tangled, and obviously unwashed. His clothes, well…most of them also smelled like he hadn't washed them in forever (which Alec hadn't, for the most part—just the occasional washing to get out blood before it stained where you could actually see it).

All in all, Alec was clearly a shambling mess of a Shadowhunter, and all the Downworlders could tell from one glance that he wasn't going to cause any trouble. He wasn't sure what they thought of him, actually—it was unlikely that Shadowhunters would knowingly let one of their own frequent this kind of a place, but at the same time, it was obvious he hadn't been stripped of his marks, as several were visible thanks to his overly loose clothes. Perhaps they thought he'd run away from the Shadowhunter life, or perhaps they thought the Shadowhunters knew and had simply given up on him, preferring to let Alec run his own course towards death than deal with him.

It didn't matter what they thought anyway.

Alec paid for his drugs (with what was the last of his money) and went to a back room, downing the drugs and slipping away into his dreams….

Alec woke several hours later, groggy and disoriented, and upon realizing where he was, despair crashed down like a tsunami. Alec laid on the bed for a few moments before forcing himself to his feet and leaving the den which, to his surprise, was still full… That was odd. Most people only came here at night, leaving in the early hours of the morning—

Oh, God.

No. He couldn't have. He couldn't have taken enough to knock himself out for an _entire day_….that would bring him to ten or eleven o'clock the next night, meaning Alec would have missed his return home, probably worried Izzy and Jace, and…

Oh, God.

Alec hurried outside, searching desperately for a clock, a calendar—something, _anything_ that could tell him the day and time!

Unfortunately, his growing feeling of dread was starting to encompass him and turn into panic as he realized the sky was too dark for it to be anything _but _night—probably, if Alec had to guess, around ten or eleven o'clock. Fancy that.

Nevertheless, Alec still wanted confirmation of his fears—and then he remembered the phone in his pocket. Because, yes, why go to an illegal drug den without a phone for people to get ahold of you with? Naturally, when you didn't want to be found, taking your phone was the thing to do.

Alec shook away the sarcastic thoughts and took out his phone, reading then rereading the date, a swell of panic and anxiety crashing over him and then suddenly sweeping away, leaving him empty and numb.

It was, in fact, tomorrow. He had been out a full day.

Alec wandered down the street, wondering dazedly how he could have done this, how he could have let this happen. How could he have gotten so wrapped up in the drugs he hadn't noticed he was taking such a large dosage? He was lucky it hadn't killed him…so much powder all at once…

Alec shook his head numbly. Maybe he should have died. He wasn't doing anyone much good anyway…

Alec struggled to pull himself away from these thoughts. He just needed to find something else to focus on…

_Izzy and Jace_, a little voice in the back of his head reminded him.

Alec stopped dead in his tracks. Izzy. Jace. Oh, God, no. He'd been gone a full day. Knowing Izzy and Jace, they'd have broken his door to pieces by now—what were they thinking? What had they seen? Only the messy room, or everything else? Had they investigated further, found his razors, or left their investigation at the complete filth his room had fallen into? Were they disgusted? Angry? Ashamed to even know him?

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. This was all too much. Just…too much. He couldn't deal with all of this anymore, Alec thought, pure despair filling him to the brim and making it difficult to even take another step forward.

He couldn't handle any of this anymore. The expectations. The responsibilities. The emotional roller coasters. His constant failure. Everything.

Maybe it wasn't that he should have died, but rather that he subconsciously wanted to.

Yes…after all, death would solve all of his problems once and for all. The answer to everything.

Well, it wasn't subconscious anymore, was it? Alec thought, fear and anticipation both mounting as he realized what he was about to do. His heart pounded in his chest as he walked towards a tall apartment building just across the street. Everything seemed brighter, somehow, more…alive.

Funny, that everything should seem more alive right as he was walking towards death.

Thankful that he was a Shadowhunter and not a mundane, Alec scaled the apartment building's walls via the windowsills and their flower baskets. Everyone in the building was most likely sleeping, what with all the lights being out, but even if they weren't, unless they looked right outside the window as Alec passed, they'd never know—he was quiet as a mouse and light as a shadow trailing across the window.

He went up the face of the building that didn't look out on any streets—the last thing he needed were any passerby pointing him out.

Alec stepped onto the roof, breathing in cool air, looking around at the bright concrete rooftop bathed in moonlight, and stepped towards the edge that faced the street this time. Concrete and tar were his safest bet for a quick death.

Alec took a deep breath, anxiety, panic, fear, exhilaration, euphoria, and a thrill of anticipation swirling inside him, conflicting at every turn. He stood there, at the edge, frozen in place as he looked out over the street. Alec took another breath, looking down, wondering for a moment—would he do it?

Another breath…

And then he stepped forward off the roof.

**DON'T KILL ME.**

**Please.**

**I enjoy life very much. And there will be a fourth part, so…there's hope yet! Yeah.**

**In any case, I hope you all enjoyed this depressing and heart-wrenching chapter!**

**Until next time, everyone, for our last installment in this fic! As always, reviews appreciated. Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!**

**-Ashe**


	5. Another Author's Note

**Oh look, an author's note. Well that can't be good!**

**All right guys, I've got something to let y'all know: I have approximately no idea when the next chapter will be up. Between college applications, school, and recently being given a week to get out of my house and figure out where to live and how to pay for college, writing isn't my top priority as of currently. I am really sorry, and if I do happen to finish anything between now and whenever the heck my life settles down again, it will be published. I'm not discontinuing the story or anything. I'm just letting you all know that I'm not currently sure when the next chapter of this story is going to be up, and so I apologize if it takes weeks.**

**Hope y'all understand and that everyone's doing well. I'll still do my best to get updates for my stories and the like, but I apologize if it takes longer than people would like.**

**-Ashe**


End file.
